Compared to what he just experienced, the room is freezing. Yet within him, there is still a raging fire, burning his insides and frying his brain. It tells him to kill. Kyle springs into action, lunging forward at Fred and grabbing at his neck. Fred drops the book and falls to the floor with a panicked yelp. Kyle’s nails dig into his skin and he rips out his throat, blood bursting out like a fountain. The flames within him are not extinguished yet. The other two are horrified and try to run.

Kyle goes after John next, harshly tugging on his arm as he tries to flee and seizing his head. He grips his upper and lower jaw, and tears the latter right out. He plunges it right back into his eyes and lets go of the poor man. John collapses into a crimson puddle. Kyle has no idea how he had the strength to do that, but it’s still burning inside. He looks over to the last cultist standing.

David stands firm, almost akin to a statue, holding the dagger in his hands and pointing it at Kyle across the room. His expression tells a different story though. He is deeply, terribly afraid. He does not want to die, but neither did Kyle. He ambles toward the petrified man, arms hanging by his sides and bloody bat-like wings stretched out.

David takes a shaky step back, holding the dagger close to himself. He mumbles several desperate pleas for mercy, but it’s too late. A direct hit to his face sends him crashing to the ground. He scrambles to get up again, but Kyle begins shredding David’s abdominal cavity with his bare hands. He screams as his skin is peeled off, his flesh torn out piece by piece, organs punctured and ripped away. His intestines lay limp beside him as all the blood within him drains. Kyle grips his ribs and with a crack and a snap, it is no longer part of him. David stops writhing in agony and becomes still soon thereafter.

Kyle gets back on his feet clumsily while clenching his head. The burning sensation had dissipated and left him severely nauseated. He looks down at the mutilated body and his bloodied clothes, making him feel even more sick. Everything was a blur, but now things are much clearer and horrific. The bodies on the floor are his doing, even if he can’t truly remember why. He holds the walls of the small room for support and tries to find an exit, which is easy to come by. Kyle staggers through the narrow passage and out into the dark rainy night. It is frigid outside, but it's a welcome change from the burning hot sensations. All around him are large towering pine trees, reaching high up into the sky, and long overgrown grass. He doesn't recognize anything, so he wanders into the dense forest. He hopes this is all some weird fever dream, he doesn’t want to believe he became some sort of monster and murdered three guys. That just wasn’t possible! Kyle collapses onto the wet grass from exhaustion and curls up into a ball. His wings awkwardly settle behind him, and he tries not to think about it as he closes his eyes and drifts to rest.

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Kyle covers his eyes with his hands as he sits up after what could be the most uncomfortable slumber ever. The sun is shining bright and the grass is coated in dew. He stretches his arms and stands up, but something still aches. The blood that covered his arms had been washed off, most likely due to the rain, but his shirt was still slightly stained. He could only imagine what a mess he looked like. It’s only then that he realizes where the aching is coming from. His… wings. Straining his neck to see behind himself, he saw a pair of wings, featherless with membranous skin stretched over elongated bone and muscle, coming out from below his shoulders. Where the wings were, his shirt was torn. Kyle is undoubtedly flabbergasted. Hesitantly, he tries to move them. Much like an infant learning to grab things, Kyle has little control over what his new limbs do. The wings stretch back and nearly make him topple backwards, then begin to flap to regain balance, which does the exact opposite. Kyle falls onto his elbows and his wings stop. He pushes himself up from the ground again, slightly annoyed.

Okay, so, none of that was a dream. He did get kidnapped, then sacrificed in a ritual, then somehow came back with actual fucking wings and shit and killed the cultists. Unless he was still dreaming, which was unlikely, everything was real. What is he supposed to do now? He looked around at his surroundings a little more. He was still in a giant forest, so maybe he should start with finding a way out of here and figuring out where he is. Like Laura had always said, ‘When you’re lost in a forest, you just gotta pick a direction and start walking.’ Of course, she meant it metaphorically, but it’s still good advice literally, right?

He begins to roam through the trees and grass, but it all seems the same to him. He hadn’t been walking in circles, but it sure felt like it. Eventually, something breaks the monotony, he finds a little clearing and a dog. It’s an adorable one, for sure, jumping up at Kyle and playfully barking at him too. He’s not an expert, but he guesses it might be some sort of labrador.

“Hey there! Uhm, buddy!” Kyle says to the dog, a little confused but enthusiastic. He goes to pet the dog on the head, but it licks his hand instead. He couldn’t help but be a little amused, so Kyle knelt to ruffle the dog's light fur. However, the dog suddenly perked up, its head turning to the side and looking at something. Then it started barking. Kyle didn’t realize what the dog was barking at until he noticed the burly man with a hunting rifle, pointing straight at him.